A Change of Plans
by Mastadon-King
Summary: The Tallests never thought Zim could ever amount to anything great. To them he was just a failure and poor excuse for an Irken. Now, he sends the Tallests information regarding a resource that could be invaluable. They will give him a chance at redemption and make him something far greater than an Invader and nearly as rare as a Tallest. Zim will become a Sentinel. Action/Gore/OC
1. Planetary Report Day

"What is with all these reports!" Tallest Purple nearly shouted. "There's like a million of these damn things all over the place. Seriously, I walk in here enjoying a nice soda and a sandwich only to find stacks of papers the size of pillars everywhere." Purple looked around him and was indeed staring at pillar sized stacks. The piles of paper stood taller than him and were all around the place. The room he went to relax and unwind had just become a workshop of misery and woe. "They're so big I can't even watch my stories." And it was true. The stacks had been piled off to the sides, mainly in front of the TV and walls, here and there with only a few scattered in the room's center.

A rustling sound came from behind him as his fellow Tallest, Red, poked his head around another stack. "You're telling me. I've been working for almost ten hours trying to finish this stuff and I haven't even put a dent in it. Now quite whining and help me out here. The sooner we're finished here the better." Red pulled his head back behind the stack and resumed reading the reports hoping to finish the task. Purple stood silent for a few moments, frozen in place, until he dropped his head in despair with an audible sigh. He dreaded this day to no end. Not even chugging his soda and wolfing down the sandwich helped any as he was forced to trudge into the sea of words printed on sheets.

Planetary Reports, done once a year, were one of the most common and basic of responsibilities any Irken Invader is charged with. They meant to inform one's superiors of the status of their assigned world. Everything from the environment to the social norm and awareness of local events to availability of resources is recorded and sent back for analysis. From there the decision as to the planet's fate, whatever it may be, is decided. This is primarily because it doesn't sound as awesome to suddenly declare a planet to be leveled and then made into a gigantic parking structure only to later realize that numerous mineral deposits that could have allowed the construction of additional Irken ships and war materials were destroyed in the process. Hence the Tallest made the Planetary Reports standard for all Invaders. It saves time and effort for the armada to move from point A to B and potential resources from getting ruined unnecessarily. Of course plans were subject to change pending on circumstances at the time. A world may be judged fit to serve as a mining planet one year only to be made into a factory world upon the Armada's arrival. The downside was that Red and Purple had to go over the damn things themselves because they ultimately decided the uses of conquered planets, leaving them both tired and annoyed.

Well into the twentieth hour, the Tallest had managed to finish a great deal of the workload with more ease than was anticipated. Of course that was only because some of the reports, consisting only of a few sheets, depicted statistical information and only a few updates on the matters of their respective worlds. In other words, several of the reports were pretty light and finished in minutes.

"All right," groaned Red as he tried to stretch his back, "I think we're done with this." He gazed upon the small bundle of papers sitting next the Planetary Reports. The former being responses to the Planetary Reports that held the future plans for the soon-to-be-subjugated worlds. Red held a look of pride and well deserved accomplishment as yet another Planetary Response Day had been completed in the last seven years. A broad smile that showed his teeth formed on his face. "All right, buddy, how's about we go get some smoothies and nachos? I'm kind of hungry and I think we've earned a good snack." Red waited for a response only to be answered with silenced. Finding this odd, he turned to see what could keep Purple from his usual rants of how smoothies and nachos could only be made better with curly fries. His pride and smile faded as his face take on a duplicate appearance to Purple's. His arms hung at his side just his jaw hung before him in an expression of horror. "I don't know how they did it…but they multiplied." Red, recovering quickest from the stupor, turned to Purple and to the sight that ruined his good mood.

It was true what Purple said. The papers had somehow managed to multiply and now a massive cluster stood before them like some menacing beast. Red moved forward and looked to the first few words of one of the documents. "What the…" he whispered to himself. The document did not begin the report, but rather continued it. He took another while dismissing the oddity. The same thing happened as he found it to be another continuation. Placing the documents to the side, he reached for another and another and another. All of them were the same. Just more and more continuations, none of them were having started the report. This went on for a minute until Red splashed his own cup of soda in Purple's face to snap him out of his trance. "Stop gawking like an idiot and help me here. Something isn't right and I want to know what and why!"

It left the other Tallest glaring at him for seconds until he moved to join. Minutes became stretched hours as they searched for the beginning document. There seemed to be no end to the papers as they seemed to have practically entered a jungle comprised of the damn things. Out of the blue, Purple, wearing a Safari hat, shouted for Red to come look. He did as was asked, though slightly distracted by the magically appearing hat.

It was an awesome hat.

His attention was drawn to the paper Purple held in his claws. Again, they both held the same face. A bizarre mix of multiple emotions tossed into the same batch resulting in silent, but violent, internal turmoil. Irritation. Discontent. Loathing. Disgust. Hatred. All of it, tossed into the same mix. It was hard to describe, even for the almighty Tallests. But then again only one being in the vast expanse of, not the galaxy, but all of existence could bring about this type of sensation. Only the one who bore the name printed in large bold letters. Neither could contain the roar that frightened every Irken in the Armada.

"**ZIIIM!"**


	2. All Work and Nothing Else

Red and Purple, having collected their calm after the abrupt outburst, were lounging in the Massive's cafeteria. Their personal lounge still being cleared by worker drones of completed Planetary Reports and their responses made it hard to relax there. That and Zim's gigantic pile still flustered them simply by being near them. At least they had their own table and something to eat. In an otherwise troublesome few hours, that was something to be glad for.

"Would you put that thing away? We're on a break. Now's the time to eat and drink, not work. Besides, I think I'm getting migraine just by watching you go over the stupid thing." Purple said before sipping on the straw of the promised smoothie after munching another curly fry. "Look," Red started with a mouthful of nachos, careful not to let some chewed up bits land on the bundle of papers on the table, "it bugs me just as much as it does you how often Zim goes about making things harder than they need be. Every Planetary Response Day he goes more and more overboard to the point that it actually surprises us both. But all the same, we still need to get done with it no matter how much we may dislike it." He didn't look up but noticed he was receiving a glare of disapproval from his compatriot. He swallowed the food and continued to focus on the last "And before you ask, no we cannot simply toss it all into a nearby sun again. The little twerp is getting suspicious since we only send him the 'keep it up' message rather than detailed plans. We're screwed enough as it is. Let's not give him reason to complain our heads off, shall we?"

The duo remained silent for the remainder of the meal as Purple watched the cafeteria TV. It was an odd TV show about a planet claimed by the Irken Empire two years ago; meaning it was simply absorbed into Irken territory and not razed during conquest. It had been set aside for its natural beauty, designated a preservation world. While most people saw the Irkens as a blood thirsty race driven solely by the idea of conquest, which they were, it wasn't all about dominating other cultures and such. On occasion something like preserving a certain races and their homes would happen. But the Tallest's focus on all that was diverted when he looked at the TV and not the images flashing on it. He never really noticed how much bigger than his and Red's it had been up 'til now. He was going to have a talk with someone about this. And possibly have another person shoved out the airlock just like during the first cannon sweep of the Slaughtering Rat People…pesky vermin.

"I don't believe it." Purple's attention was immediately drawn from the show he was watching to Red. He was smiling like a child given a new toy. Before Purple could inquire about what had him grinning like that, Red floated to his side and held up several sheets. It was more statistical and logistic data. Purple looked up to his now giddy co-ruler wondering what could have lifted his spirits in such a manner. He looked away from Red, focusing on the data in front of him. "It's just data. What's so important about it?" Red didn't say anything. Instead, he point to a specific spot in the maddening clutter of numbers and letters. They now both held broad smiles.

Turning to each other, both were aware of what the other was thinking. Jumping in the air, excitement in their voices, they whooped and hollered in joy. Neither cared that they'd just drawn the attention of everyone in the cafeteria and of those they passed on their hastened trip to the command center.

Within the confines of a dark room sat a shadowed figure. The room was lit poorly by the reddish-pinkish glow of active computers and monitoring devices found along the walls. A variety of tools and equipment had been strewn around the floor, shelves, and work counters, forgotten after they were done being used. Several containers, varying in size, shape, and contents, were just as scattered. Smile piles of broken items and damaged apparatuses had been formed in the corners. The figure would more than likely recycle the materials. That or he would probably just leave them to collect dust for the time being.

The lighting of the room changed some as the largest of the computers began to display several images and a series of numbers. It was running a simulation at the will of its owner. Off to the side, a small box appeared with a list of factors and additional data scrolling down quickly. Numerous pictures and several other such info filled boxes appeared. They were soon covered by other ones which were also covered by others. It went on like this for a while as it had done a few hours earlier. All of this was done for the simulation to make…to make…something…possible. It was supposed to be of great significance. It would give him a major advantage over his enemies in dominating the planet he stood on or in preventing it other forces from removing it from his grasp.

None of it made sense though. To his eyes everything looked like gibberish. Images, words, and numbers all looked a mess of lines. There was hardly any order to the things he was looking at. That was the effect of two months' worth of working without any rest and just barely enough food and liquids to keep him alive. But the lack of mental focus was just one issue he struggled to deal with. Strong headaches would come and go at random leaving him in mental pains, much like what he was feeling now.

Zim raised his hands to his eyes, rubbing them and his temples. The pain dulled but only slightly. The pain had reached the point that just by looking at the gibberish caused his brain to retaliate. Looking to the small plastic bottles in front him, he felt an urge to reach out swallow another handful of painkillers. Halfway there, he recalled he had just downed the last of the pills a few hours ago and pulled his hand back to rest his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His last dose of human medicines had allowed him about another few hours of work before now. They were so weak by comparison to that of the Irken people. He only resorted to consuming large handfuls of aspirin and such at a time because his own supply of meds had been exhausted in the first few weeks of what he considered dreadful torture, the sense of duty that he shared with other Irkens being the only driving force to keep him going.

He heard but failed to register the door to the room opening and the footsteps that followed. His mind was overwhelmed with pain and numbed from constant labor. He didn't even pick up the pitter patter and the clanking of metal and of heavy shoes hitting the floor. Not even the voices caught his attention.

"So…he's been like this for about a month now?" asked Dib. Gir, holding onto his piggy and blanket, could only nod in response to the question. Dib, having spent years honing his abilities of observation and perception, noted the room's state of disarray. It was like his garage on a bad day multiplied by a hundred. Dib stopped as he felt the little robot tug on his signature trench coat. Looking down at the robot he was met with a look of great concern for Zim's wellbeing. Insane as Gir was, he still cared.

Dib turned back to Zim. Moving forward, he reached out to gently place a hand on the alien's shoulders. "Hey, Zim, it's me Dib." No response. Dib concluded that Zim was beyond tired considering past experiences where even walking into the room earned him several insults and ranting. But now, he didn't even get a glare. He heard Gir sniffle behind him, a tear having formed somehow dropped from one of his eyes to the floor. This set Dib into motion.

Instead of trying to gain the alien's attention, or at least a response of some sort, Dib picked him up. An arm over his shoulder and Zim's figure leaning against his own for support, Dib made his way through the door. He walked through the corridors of the base, having learned the layout by heart after so many attempts to infiltrate the structure and learn all that he could during his childhood. Gir had been only a step behind the two the entire time.

Finally coming to the floor's elevator, Gir, without being asked, opened the doors. Dib thanked him and carefully moved himself and Zim inside with Gir. "Computer" Dib called. A heavy and lazy sigh from the easily bothered AI sounded back. Dib ignored it knowing full well that Zim had given up trying to remove that issue. The base hadn't been the same since Gir took control of the place and went crazy for tacos. "I don't know what Zim was working on, but I would think he'd prefer it be saved for later use."

"Actually, most of the stuff he's been working on for the last couple of weeks has been pretty much incorrect on multiple levels. It all basically a bunch of crap he wouldn't be able to properly use even if he tried." This actually surprised Dib, or rather caused him to be even more surprised than he already was. The electronic voice resumed speaking "The only things that he was able to successfully work out were the defense plans in case Earth was to be threatened by another faction."

"Is there anything specific in regards to the plans?" Dib inquired. "Zim has developed a few new weapons and tools to use. He's also modified the Voot Cruiser to a degree. There are other materials in development, but I am still under orders not to reveal them to you…sorry." It was Dib's turn to sigh, even though he could understand the alien's desire for privacy. Dib had been trying to destroy Zim's base after all. But in more recent times he'd just go tampering with them, trying to figure out how they worked. Unfortunately, this only set Zim back by several months at a time as the things he had built were now wrecked beyond repair. Now, Dib was forbidden to learn or interact with such things unless it was under Zim's supervision. "It's fine, don't worry about it. Just make sure to save his work, regardless of how flawed it is, and take us up to the house please." There were several beeps as the computer carried out the requests. "Done and done. Also, just so you know Dib, both your sister and your girlfriend are getting impatient. I think I hear something from Gaz about flaying you and Zim."


End file.
